


Permission

by Wolfscub



Category: British Actor RPF, actor tom hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: D/s, Erotica, F/M, Fluff, Light Bondage, Romance, Spanking, dominant Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:11:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfscub/pseuds/Wolfscub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Tom and his lover decide that she will submit to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permission

**Author's Note:**

> Romance, Fluff, Erotica, mild D/s, spanking, mild bondage, hetero sex. This is a one off, as usual. Inspired by this image: 
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s1008.photobucket.com/user/phillyloo/media/Etc/dont-come-until-i-say-you-can-22402_zpsa19d2188.gif.html)  
> 

"Strip," he said, with no preamble, reaching down to pull the covers off our bed so that it was down to just the fitted sheet.

I felt paralyzed at his tone - it was the first time he'd ever spoken to me quite that sternly, or at least the first time I felt compelled to obey it when I heard it, anyway. My mouth hung open a bit with the thought of what might be to come, those lips as dry as my southernmost ones were instantaneously wet.

When he turned to look at me, those muscular arms were crossed in front of him, stretching the already obscenely tight blue shirt over his chest and broad shoulders. Chin tucked to chest, those soul deep eyes said that he would have little patience with me if I didn't obey him. "Did I mumble, my love?" he asked in a husky rasp.

Unable to look away, but at the same time unable to keep looking at him, knowing what he was thinking of by the way I could actually see his cock jumping behind the zipper of his immaculate black jeans, I finally snapped out of my trance. My cute pink hoodie, shoes and socks came off first and I busied myself folding everything nicely on the chair that was right behind me, sticking the socks in the shoes and fitting them beneath the chair because I knew he was a bit of a neat freak. I hazarded a quick look at him and regretted it immediately. He was still standing next to the bed, staring intently at me as I obeyed him as slowly as I dared.

My t-shirt was next, revealing my bra beneath, then, quickly, before I lost my courage, I slipped my shorts down my legs and stepped out of them, turning away from him to fold both of them, neatly, too. I felt rather than heard him come up behind me, those big hands of his cupping my pink lace-covered breasts surely, confidently, moving the fabric away on both sides so that he could feel my skin, his hands squeezing gently and then not quite so as my head fell backwards onto his chest while his fingers rolled and pinched my nipples. It was unbelievable to me, but I knew I was seconds from coming and he'd barely touched me.

That's what spending the evening out, talking about him being more dominant with me - in the bedroom and out - did to me. I had been leaving big wet stains everywhere I'd sat while we were at the movies then our favorite little bistro spot for dinner. Somehow he'd insisted on discussing that particularly intimate topic while we were eating, and I was sure that the waitress had gotten several earfuls of things she really didn't need to hear as he'd grilled me about what it was that I wanted from him exactly.

And now, because of those frank discussions, I dared not disobey him. Not this new Tom, who, surprisingly, didn't seem to really need much - if any - help from me in regards to being dominant. He was his usual loving, attentive self - and yet so different, somehow, at the same time - that I answered all of his questions - even the most embarrassing of them - completely and unhesitatingly because I wasn't at all sure that I could trust him not to punish me right then and there - over the table in a place we frequented and where everyone knew us - if I didn't!

Now we were home, in the bedroom we'd shared for the past year or so, and he was in full fledged Dom mode - what I'd thought I'd always wanted from him, although now, faced with the reality of it, I wasn’t at all sure I could handle him.

As if he recognized how close I was, his hands moved to more neutral territory, encircling my waist loosely, and I had a brief moment of respite, but then a low, warning rumble issued from where he was kissing my collarbone just where it began to become my neck, "Did I tell you you could stop undressing for me, Skye?"

I stiffened in his arms - there was no way he couldn't have noticed my reaction. I reached behind me for the clasp to my bra, my feelings of submission and vulnerability to him doubly reinforced when I came into contact with his t-shirt while I stood in front of a rapidly growing pile of clothes in just my bra and panties.

My cold, nervous fingers fumbled a bit getting the blasted thing unhooked, but he didn't seem to notice, his big hands roaming possessively over the skin I had already bared to his always eager touch. When it was finally free, I slid it off me, folding it but unable - because of how tightly and closely he was holding me against him - to lean down to put it atop my clothes.

Finally he moved his hands more around my waist so that I could bend enough to accomplish that task, but when I tried to lean back up I instead found his hand at the back of my neck, keeping me bent over as he used his other hand to pull my bottom back against his impressive erection. One big foot pushed my ankles well apart so that I was much more open to him as the hand that had been cupping my neck reached for my long ponytail, instead, wrapping it around his palm several times and using it to control how far away I could get from him, which wasn't very. In order to relieve his just shy of uncomfortable grip on my hair, I had to crane my neck back towards him quite a bit, which forced my bare breasts into obscene prominence, something of which he immediately took advantage as he continued to pound his still barely contained hard on against my panty covered slit.

After only a few short thrusts, he chuckled deep in his throat, the sound almost menacing. "The fabric over my cock is drenched, little one. Someone is quite happy to finally be taken in hand, hmmmmm?"

Suddenly it wasn't his cock but his hand there, not quite taking possession of the area, but rather very delicately almost tickling the heart and heat of me from behind, teasing, increasing my already heavy breathing to the point where I felt as if I wasn't getting any oxygen at all, and yet still he teased.

Finally, I could feel two broad, strong fingers rub part of the way down my cleft. "Skye," he scolded fiercely, "your panties are soaking wet! I think we'll have to forego them until you can learn to control yourself and your body's naughty responses better."

With that, I felt him rip them off me, the fragile fabric easily giving way to his superior strength as I gasped in surprise.

His hard arm abruptly brought me up so that my back was against his front again, and it remaining diagonally across my body as if in a mark of possession, lying between my breasts as his fingers hooked over my shoulder. His mouth ravaged my neck with stinging nips followed by soothing butterfly kisses as he breathed, "This is how you should always appear to me, my sweet. Naked and wet and wanting. This is your natural state when you're with me, and you'll never be with anyone else for the rest of your life. I will never, ever let you go, Skye. You. Are. Mine."

He guided me over to the bed, and although there were no thoughts of resistance in my head, it was a good thing because there was no way I could have overpowered him or gotten away - he was easily more than a foot taller than I was and he outweighed me by at least seventy pounds, to say nothing of the fact that I was a devout, orthodox couch potato and he was a dedicated health nut whose lean body belied a strength that few experienced, but I was already quite intimately acquainted with, and, I had a feeling, was about to become much, much more so.

As if to demonstrate what I'd been thinking, he lifted me then, as if I was a feather, depositing me on the mattress in front of where he stood. "On your knees, baby." His grin was positively predatory as he growled, "Another of your natural states."

I made as if to turn towards him and received a tremendous swat to my bottom that I was ashamed to realize brought tears to my eyes. One swat and I had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling! What kind of a baby about pain had I become in the absence of anyone looking after me in this excruciatingly intimate manner?

But this wasn't just anyone. This was Tom. My Tom. A man who had already taken the time to get to know me better than anyone ever had - and who cared enough to remember things that I had said to him that he knew were important to me, whether it was a cause that I cared about or a particular way he touched me that sent me skyrocketing - some of which I had forgotten about telling him but he remembered every syllable of. He put himself out to take care of me as best he could, even when I had given him no authority over me to correct the stupid situations I found myself in because I was a spoiled, lazy, hedonistic brat who disliked authority - being told what to do by anyone usually had me doing the complete opposite - in the extreme.

And yet that was exactly what I craved, and he knew it. He'd known it for a while, he'd said as much this evening, but he'd wanted to get to know me well enough to - how had he phrased it? - to do me proud. He didn't want to damn me with half measures; if he was going to do this for me - and for himself, partly for his own peace of mind - he had to do it well.

I had a feeling he was going to do it a little too well, but I kept my concerns to myself.

I remained where I was, naked, kneeling on the mattress directly in front of him, facing the headboard of our big bed. We had been sleeping together for over a year now, and yet I had more of an impulse to want to reach down and cover my breasts and my privates than I'd ever had with him before, even the first time we'd slept together. But I knew that would not be a good impulse, and I had no interest in ever having him swat me again. That first one was still buzzing its painful way around my insulted flesh, and I would have bet my life that his livid red handprint would remain on my skin for quite some time as a reminder, which, of course, was exactly what he'd intended.

I heard him sigh deeply. "Do you know how extraordinarily beautiful you are, my love? You are always to me, but especially when you're like this," he whispered against my cheek, giving it a gentle kiss.

It was normal for me to try to deflect any compliment he gave me, especially one about my looks - of which I didn't think I had any at all - but when I - out of long habit - tried to sidle away from him and opened my mouth to deny the truth of what he'd said, I only got as far as, "No -"

And another smack fell, concentrated on the opposite cheek from the first one, so that I now had two blazing red globes, and this time, I wasn't able to suppress the tears.

"From now on, Skye, whenever I compliment you about anything, you are to simply say, 'Thank you, Sir'. If I hear anything else come out of those pretty lips of yours, my belt is going to begin leaving livid red welts on your bottom within a minute or so. Do you understand?"

Biting my lip, I answered softly, "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

I thought I could see a small smile on his face, but I figured I needed to stare straight ahead rather than sneak a look and hazard another smack.

"Very good. And right now, I don't want to hear any words from you. You can cry and moan and groan and keen, but if I hear a coherent word . . . " He didn't specify what was going to happen to me if I broke that rule, but I could well imagine that I probably didn't want to know! 

He spotted the tracks of the tears that had raced down my cheeks and onto my bosom with that last slap. Tom bent down to kiss them gently away, saying against my skin, "Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to kiss away all of the tears you're going to shed this evening, my lovely, although you must know that I sincerely want to."

I nodded my head, more tears falling in the wake of his beautiful words.

Since I was perpendicular to him, he could put a hand on the front of me and on my back at the same time, which he did, indulging himself, I thought, touching me everywhere he wanted to and not just where he thought I might want him to, knowing from our frank conversations that that, too, would be a huge turn on to me. I had told him that, if we went this route with our relationship, that he should see more to his own needs, that mine would naturally follow his.

At first it was just his fingertips, leaving fiery trails all over my skin - up over my ultra sensitive behind, the slight discomfort making me flinch just a bit until I stifled the impulse, although it was too late. Another powerful, firm swat caught the bottom crest of each cheek, where just where they turned into thigh, wrenching a distressed cry from my lips.

"You are to remain perfectly still. The only movements you are to make are those at my behest. Otherwise, you must kneel and do what I know you want to do anyway, Skye. Submit yourself completely to me."

His hands had begun to move on me again, doing more than just grazing my skin, claiming me, groping, squeezing and pinching as I did my best not to move, as I had been told - and it was much, much harder than I would have guessed to do so. My body craved his touch so that it wanted to follow those fingers - even the ones that hurt me a bit - to arch against him as he plucked at nipples made painfully hard by his pinching, hips that wanted to arch up to encourage him to explore the area between my legs that was so swollen and aching and wet for him that I thought I was going to die if he didn't touch me there soon.

My hands itched and clenched, muscles flexing with the effort not to reach out to him, to grab onto his strong arm as he tortured and teased me, not to cup his dear, red bearded cheek or even just hold his hand for comfort and support.

He noticed this, of course. Tom was nothing if not an attentive and talented lover. He left me for a short moment - and I had to swallow down a violent keen at the loss of his warm presence near me - returning with a handful of very pretty pink silk ribbon, with which he proceeded to bind my wrists behind my back. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, then put the rest of the ribbon on his nightstand.

For future reference? I couldn't help but wonder.

But then his left hand came up between my bound arms to rest between my shoulder blades, pressing a bit there to encourage me to arch my back as he leaned down to capture my nearest nipple, suckling gently yet avidly until I couldn't help but groan at his ministrations.

"That's it, baby. I love hearing everything you're feeling because of what I'm doing to you. That's why this room is soundproofed. You are never to hide your responses, Skye. Instead, I want you to revel in them, to be proud that your body adores what I'm doing to it, even if your mind might not be quite so enthusiastic sometimes."

His other free hand twisted and pulled my other nipple, and I knew I was getting very close to orgasming, my rapid breathing pattern giving me away to Tom, who removed his hands from me.

"Don't cum until I say you can, Skye. You no longer have any control over your pleasure. And I assume it goes without saying that you know that this -" His hand came up to shove itself between my legs, rudely cupping my most intimate parts, which, of course, immediately creamed all over his fingers. "is off limits to you. The only time you will be pleasuring yourself is at my command. If I find out you've been masturbating, I'll use the bath brush on your bottom -" he reached down to trail his fingertips over my already sore behind for emphasis " - every night for a week, and deny you your pleasure for a month while I take mine within your delectable body any time I feel the need."

He leaned forward to press his lips gently, tenderly against my ear, letting me feel all of him down the length of my body as his deep, hoarse tone sent rivers of chill bumps cascading through my flesh, "And believe me, my Skye, I always feel the need of you. Always."

With a step back, his hands resumed their positions, that long middle finger of his reaching further between my legs and taking advantage of that reach, curling it a bit to separate my folds and feel even more of my juices baptize his flesh.

"Spread your legs," he ordered softly but firmly, helping me maintain my balance with a strong grip on my bicep, until my knees were indecently wide apart and I could feel my own inner lips kept separate and open between them, knowing the humiliation that came with the realization that I was going to begin helplessly dripping my tribute to him down onto the sheet beneath me in a matter of seconds.

Even though I was kneeling on the bed, he was still quite a bit taller than I was, and with him standing so close, I felt surrounded by him, almost overwhelmed by his presence as I often felt - and quite welcomed - when we were making love. I adored that he was so much bigger and stronger than I was. It couldn't help but subtly reinforce the submissive feelings I had towards him every time I saw him, and now they were running wild within me every single second, amplifying everything he said or did to me - making it harder and harder to obey his edict about not cumming until I was given permission by him to do so.

And then, as I panted and moaned and keened uncontrollably, the hand at my back ventured slowly down over my soft skin, tickling the small of my back, then down further to cup the base of my bottom; its fingers searching between legs that could no longer defend against their imminent invasion.

As they began to explore me from behind I bit my lip and cried out, trying to arch back against them. They were removed immediately in favor of delivering five impossibly hard, crisp smacks that left me breathless and sobbing, barely able to stay upright. Tom gave me no explanation for them, but then, I knew what I had done to earn them.

He held my arm until I could resume my position again without worrying that I was going to fall over, my breasts bathed in the tears his hand had inspired.

And then he advanced on my lady parts from the front and the back; the hand that had assaulted my bottom pressing two fingers up inside me quickly and beginning to fuck me hard and fast, in no particular rhythm, which he knew I hated. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing to grab and build the sensations on that would get me to my orgasm.

Then the hand at my front that still cupped my privates sent three fingers diving between my outer lips - two to spread them wide and hold me even further open to him, the middle to settle delicately yet possessively over a clit that had swollen to the point that it was about the size of a five carat diamond and was at least as hard.

I couldn't help it. When the big pad of his finger found me - finally - I groaned long and low in the back of my throat. He knew what I liked - to be filled - and thus a third finger quickly joined the other two, making my panting breaths hiss through my teeth as I was rudely forced to stretch to accommodate the extra girth. It was still nothing compared to himself, but still - I was - as he had often remarked with a smile, "Delightfully virginal," and being stretched wide had always triggered something primal in me.

I had never wanted to ask for anything from him more than I wanted to ask for this orgasm, but I figured that that was verboten. I was terrified that I might not be able to make it until he gave me permission, although I knew I was going to do my damndest not to end up being punished for something I should have been able to control.

As he began to rub me, slowly, languidly, with a devastating skill he had honed nearly every night since we'd first made love, I knew that if I didn't find something else to think of, and fast, that I was going to seriously disobey him.

I tried multiplication tables. I tried conjugating French verbs. I tried to recite all of the stupid things I'd been forced to memorize in school that I never thought I'd need - the Preamble to the Constitution, Portia's mercy speech from The Merchant of Venice - which I thought he'd appreciate in several ways - and the Gettysburg Address - none of which helped one iota.

And then he lifted me off the bed and held me against him, arching his own back to provide me with more support as I wrapped my legs loosely around him. "Look at me, Skye." I obeyed immediately, and it was then that I saw the tears in his eyes. "I have never had anything so precious belong to me as I feel you do. I feel complete with you, like this, taking care of you in ways that the boring vanillas of the world will never understand, but that I treasure like nothing else I've ever experienced. I adore you so completely, my love. Thank you for the gifts you have given me this night, and every night." I didn't say anything, but nodded emphatically before he kissed me, his own tears mingling with mine before he moved a bit away. "I'm going to hold you here and watch you cum, Skye O'Mine. Give me your beautiful eyes, your intimate pleasure, your barest soul, and I will keep them safe with mine forever."

It was his words, his voice that flung me slowly, slowly over the precipice as I gave every bit of myself to him, my eyes locked to his while I was at my most vulnerable - suspended well above the ground, dependent on his strength and the way he cared for me to keep me from falling, filled by huge fingers that I had somehow again become impaled upon, falling into that familiar yet strangely new and raw abyss of unbound paradise, panting, writhing, crying - screaming with it, forced to ride the waves until he felt that every ounce of pleasure had been wrought from my yielding body.

He bore me down onto the mattress, my wrists released quickly so that I would not experience the discomfort of having to lie on them while he covered me with his not inconsiderable weight, yet I found no freedom in that he captured them once again, holding them in one hand above my head, spreading my legs with his knees, pulling them up over his shoulders, putting me in one of the most ultimately vulnerable positions a woman could be in with a man as he thrust himself up into me in one powerful movement. 

I didn't think it would ever be easy for me to take him - he was almost too big for me - but I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge, adored being so completely filled - possessed - by him, and if I relaxed myself, I could feel every delicious bit of him as he spread me wide open beneath him, claiming me in the most elemental way a man could possibly possess his woman.

I had been floating on the still pulsating remnants of the ecstasy he had brought me, completely mindless, completely helpless, and without a care in the world because I knew how absolutely safe I was with him watching out for me. But when he split me open like that, taking me hard, keeping me from touching him, from being able to move much beneath him, I was amazed to feel my own pleasure rise again, and I knew he could feel how my muscles clenched at him.

He leaned a bit back, just enough to slip his hand between us to place a finger directly over the top of my clit, then began plunging violently into me, knowing his motions would move his finger to tease my clit.

The word "NO!" was on the tip of my tongue, but I figured that saying it might earn me an even sorer behind than I already had, so I settled for shaking my head back and forth.

Tom knew what I wanted to say, I had certainly said it often enough as he proved me wrong every single time, and my head stopped suddenly as a positively wolfish smile settled onto his face. "Oh, yes, my love. You are going to cum again before I do. If you don't, you're going to be lying on your tummy when you go to bed tonight."

With that he held my eyes and bent his head to one bobbing breast, capturing a nipple and suckling ferociously at it.

That was all I could stand; I couldn't take one more sensation piled on top of what he was already doing to me. It burst out of me from the tips of my toes - that out and out scream that I worried as I was emitting it might deafen him in one ear, but he just chuckled softly, then found himself caught up in his own release, pumping furiously into me until he, too, threw his head back and yelled with the sheer force of pleasure that coursed through him as he emptied himself within me.

We lay like that - him atop me, where he almost never stayed any length of time for fear of crushing me, and me beneath him, excruciatingly happy to have his very male weight on me. I clutched at him and whimpered at the loss when he rolled off, but he was resolute, immediately hauling me up against him to bestow one of the tenderest, most loving kisses I've ever received in my life on my lips, kissing me gently as if he thought I'd dissolve into a thousand pieces if he exerted too much pressure.

He brushed the hair back from my damp forehead, his eyes searching mine earnestly. "Are you all right?"

He knew he didn't have to ask that, but he always did, especially when we - he - was particularly vigorous.

"I'm . . . I'm . . . " I began, smiling up at him, but then, in the next second, horrified to realize that I was about to burst into tears.

I thought Tom was going to have a heart attack when I began to cry, and I did my best to assuage his concerns as he sat up against the headboard and gathered me to him on his lap, raising his knees to cradle me that much further. "Baby, what is it? Did I hurt you? What's the matter? What can I do?"

I could hear the achingly poignant anguish in his voice; I knew he was at a loss - and hated to be in that position even when it wasn't something like this - as to what to do. I kind of was, too, though, so I did the only thing I could do - I threw myself against him, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face against his neck. As soon as I felt I could speak, I did, even though I would have preferred if he had just held me for a while longer. I couldn't live with the idea that he thought he'd hurt me in any way. 

"I - I'm f-fine. S-sorry. Just . . . over-overwhelmed, I g-guess," I forced out through sobs.

"You're sure you're okay?" He tipped my chin up so that I had to look at him, and I could see how his heart was being torn out of him by the roots at the thought that anything he'd done might have harmed me in any way.

I sat back a little, although his tight arms didn't let me get very far, and gave him a very watery smile. "Blissful, Thomas. Truly, unutterably blissful. Ignore the tears - they're just an excess of the emotions you always inspire in me." His face lightened back to his normal smiling countenance at my words. Before I let him cuddle me more, though, I played with his t-shirt a bit, then looked up at him, biting my lip slightly. "Thank you - for being willing to do this. For loving me enough to want to."

He easily gathered me back against him, arms very tight around me. "You're proceeding on a false assumption, beloved."

I caught his eyes, confused.

"You think that you're the only one of us that has wanted things to be like this from the start, don't you?" I nodded. "Well, disabuse yourself of that notion, woman. I've been wanting to bring you to heel since the first day I met you and you threw Luke's pen at me."

"You were being a dick," I said, defending my actions. "You deserved to have that pen thrown at you - be happy it wasn't the marble paperweight that was next to it on the desk!"

I found my back pressed into the mattress at that impudence, staring up into those precious gems of his. "I am going to thoroughly enjoy taming you, Skye," he growled ferociously.

"Good luck with that, Thomas," I challenged, sticking my tongue out at him as his hand captured my breast.

It abandoned its post for lusher pastures, and I soon found three fingers rubbing tantalizingly over a button of flesh that had been left in an unbearably sensitized state by his previous attentions, and within an embarrassingly few circuits of those soft pads over and around it, I was dangerously close to cumming - again.

That was until I looked into those mischievous eyes again "Permission, Skye. From now on you must remember that what you need from me the most is permission."

He withdrew his hands then, pulling me back against him to wrap himself around me in the spoon position in which we usually slept.

I was still panting, my body still on the verge, aching and arching for release as much as his tight arms would allow.

Then he whispered cruelly into my ear, "And you won't always get it. Now go to sleep, babygirl."


End file.
